


This Room, a Chapel

by WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, L is a Little Shit (Death Note), Light is too, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Teenage Awkwardness, Virgin Light, Virgin Light is my drug of choice, Yotsuba Arc (Death Note), but also Watari has a mini arc. My sane king. I’m so sorry you have to put up with these two., gay activity in a church, this is lawlight porn, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch/pseuds/WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch
Summary: "You dragged me out here for this?" Light says, still staring at the small yet ostentatious object that resulted in the most excruciating car ride of his life.L lifts his cuffed hand to his lips in his customary way and simply watches Light, giving nothing away about his own mental processes."So this is a Kira shrine," Light says, leaning forward to get a closer look at the jeweled walls.L nods slowly, "That is true, Light-Kun.""What, so do you want me to denounce it?""That's a fine place to start."---In which L drags Light out to the outskirts of town for investigation purposes. Of course, as it always does with these two, it devolves into something less professional.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 11
Kudos: 64





	This Room, a Chapel

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This fic was 100% born out of the authors desire to write these two getting up to unprofessional activity in a church. For the symbolism, you know? Enjoy!

It's not often the two of them are pulled away from their desk during the day. Opportunities don't usually present themselves. Most of the investigation is easily carried out over the internet, files upon files of data stored neatly in digital archives, L and Light firmly rooted to their seats. So, when L hops up from his spot beside Light, dragging him along by the wrist towards the imposing glass doors, Light is duly confused. 

"Hey!" He tries, to no avail, as he and L cross the room. The commotion attracts the attention of the other agents.

The rest of the task force tosses odd glances amongst themselves from their various desks. Light's father jumps to his feet immediately to follow after his prized son. He stalks over to where the wiry detective stands with Light in toe, heeling.

"Where are you taking my son?"

L doesn't look back at the man, "Mr. Yagami, please don't be alarmed; your son is in no danger."

Soichiro stands, a wall blocking the way to the exit; however, L is reasonably sure the man isn't going to do anything to stop him making off with Light, prized as the boy maybe.

"Where are you going?" Matsuda pipes up from somewhere behind them, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

"It doesn't concern you, Matsuda," L says flippantly, not so much as turning back to look at him.

Light crosses his arms and tries to stop L's quick gait by planting his feet. L's arm jerks back as the chain grows taught. "I may not be in danger, but I don't see why no one can know where we're going. This is weird, even for you."

"I can promise your safety. Beyond that, I really don't need to share any more information."

Matsuda pipes up again from the middle of the room, not yet put off by L's disinterest in his thoughts, "That doesn't make any sense if Light is Kira… wouldn't it be dangerous for him to leave with only you--"

"Quiet Matsuda." L and Light both shoot over their shoulders in the same breath. Somehow, Matsuda has managed to take the only stance that neither of the ill-tempered geniuses agrees with. The man in question flinches and retreats back to his desk.

Arms still crossed, Light addresses L, "Look, I'm not saying I won't go, I'd just like to know what you're planning."

L offers no answer but merely soldiers ahead, dragging Light in his wake as if the boy genius were nothing more than an ornery pet.

L steps, barefoot, out the door and into the glow of midday sun and nip of mid-autumn weather. Light cringes internally seeing L march out into the bright fall day sans jacket, shoes, or socks.

Watari waits for them, already opening the door to the back of the sleek limousine, a pair of beat-up sneakers dangling from his free hand. L's go-to pair, Light has come to learn, for an outing that requires some sort of footwear.

Light crosses his arms, tucking his hands against his side, the cold seeping through his thin black sweater, his neck exposed to the elements in his v neck. Light has half a mind to ask for a jacket, but he doubts that's the sort of thing Watari totes around. He'd have better luck asking for chocolate mousse.

"What are you playing at Ryuzaki?" Light tries to inject his tone with a levity he does not feel. L doesn't humor him with a response; he merely yanks at their chain again, and Light grimaces as the cold metal digs into his already swollen wrist.

A little thrill of fear works its way down his spine. Is this another test? Has L decided to whisk him off to an execution site on a Monday afternoon without anyone else's knowledge? Light's mind eats at itself as he ducks into the car, thanking Watari, something L did far too rarely in Light's opinion. 

The plush leather of the seats and glossy interior of the car does nothing to settle Light's nerves as he sits, bringing his ankle up to rest on his knee. He glances over at L briefly, trying to work some meaning out of his impassive features. L absentmindedly brings a thumb up to his lips, bites at the nail. Frowning, Light turns away from the man, but he can't help but cut his gaze back every few seconds. He desperately wants to ask the detective what, exactly, is going on.

"We are investigating, Light-Kun." L pipes up out of nowhere as if Light's thoughts were that easy to clean. L makes a point of showing off his little mind-reading stunt whenever he and Light happen to be alone. It always makes him jump worst when the detective performs this slight at night, just as Light is about to drift off.

"Right. Got that. Any more details I might want to know?"

L just shrugs and leans against the window, gazing listlessly out at the city through the slightly tinted glass. 

"Ryuzaki." Light tries, but when no response comes, Light merely closes his eyes and leans back against the seats, and tries to relax. 

L proceeds not to say much as they travel. Watari plays no music, and Light hadn't had time to grab his phone (nestled in his jacket pocket) on the way out of headquarters. He is left with nothing but his own traitorous thoughts, thoughts telling him, screaming at him, that L is escorting him to his execution.

"Where are we going?" Light finally asks again when the silence becomes too oppressive, and his mind has run away with wild theories about the meaning of their quick departure. 

L shrugs again, "Like I said, investigation."

"Right, and what I'm saying is that that is not nearly enough information." Light crosses his arms over his chest and sends the detective a peeved little look. 

"If I were to explain it now, Light-Kun, it would ruin the investigation."

"Oh, so this is about me." Light huffs and turns back to his own window, digging his shoulder into the plush seats. 

"Is it not always?"

Light's eyes narrow, "What do you mean by that?"

L does turn back to look at him now, his own features laced with amusement. It makes Light's skin crawl, "I mean that you are narcissistic."

Light rolls his eyes, "are you seriously trying to pick a fight with me?"

"No… though if you want to fight… I guess I have no say in the matter."

Light seriously considers it for a moment. He's never been the violent type. Before L, he'd never so much as slapped someone on the shoulder in congratulations, and now here he was debating if he should start a fistfight in the back of a limo. 

"I don't want to fight, Ryuzaki," Light sighs; it's a chore to get those words out," It's just... You're acting weird."

"I could say the same about you," L muses, looking up at the roof of the car as if some divine knowledge floats just above his head.

"Come on--"

"Now that you mention it… you've been acting 'weird' ever since you were released from confinement--"

"No. No, we are not doing this right now."

L turns back to him entirely. Backlit, the sun streaming in from the window behind him makes the man look all the more washed out. "Doing what? I only made an observation."

"To annoy me."

"Annoy you? I would never want to do that, Light-Kun."

"Because we are such good friends?"

L shakes his head, unruly strands of dark hair falling into his eyes, "because it would not be wise to get on Kira's bad side when I am alone with him."

Light takes a steadying breath; he knows what L is doing. The detective seems to get a genuine kick out of winding Light up. He does it often—Light rubs at his temple, shoving auburn strands of hair out of place.

"I'm not Kira."

"We will have to agree to disagree about this"

"I think I liked it better when you weren't talking to me."

L mimes, unsuccessfully, a look of hurt, "that's not a very nice thing to say to one's friend."

Light glares at him, counts backward from ten in his mind, and wills away any traces of anger before reclining back against the seats and letting his eyes slip shut again. "I'm sorry." His voice is calm and measured. Nothing of his roiling anger and unease spills through the perfectly constructed facade of disinterest… and yet-- 

"You don't sound genuine." L pipes up, unconvinced.

"You--" Light's eyes snap open, and without realizing it, his fists are balled. L simply gazes back at him with large, unassuming eyes and the trace of a smile, poorly suppressed.

"I'm glad you find me amusing," Light bites out, turning away again to watch the city drift past him beyond the glass. So many other people are living everyday lives, going to school and work. Living with their families or maybe on their own. Such pretty banality and Light is excluded from it all.

Light can hear L calling his name, It's soft enough that he can ignore it. 

"Light-Kun…" a tug on his sleeve, "Light-Kun?"

To Light's surprise, Watari pipes up from the driver's seat, "Ryuzaki," is all the man says, but L lets him alone after that. Light sends another thank you, this time silent, to the older man.

They sit in silence for the rest of the ride. Light is almost comfortable. The sound of L shuffling is actually not all that annoying but functions as a sort of white noise that Light lets wash over himself. Sometimes, when L lets him alone, the other man can almost be comforting.

…

When they arrive, Light's confusion only grows. His mind is an untended garden, overgrown, weeds of unease tangling with the roots of rational thought.

As Watari opens the door, Light gets a glimpse over the man's shoulder at an imposing building. White, sleek, and with its single spire grasping for heavens, Light easily identifies this as a church. The surrounding land, he sees as he exits the car after L, is sparsely developed. The sky overhead grows dark and heavy with oncoming rain.

"Come on," L motions with a hand, as if Light has any say in exactly where he goes. He follows dutifully—the sound of L dragging his feet along the sidewalk grates on Light's nerves. L sounds like he has a toddler's gate when he wears shoes as if the sneakers weighed him down that much. Light rolls his eyes and looks to the foliage. Trees, branches starting to rustle as a cool wind blows through them, reach up towards the overcast sky. 

The building's long checkered windows catch what little glow of the sun peeks through the clouds, casting a blueish glare over the detective. 

L steers the both of them up toward the front of the building, where Watari holds the door open. L says nothing in passing. Light offers a quick "Thank you" as they enter.

The entrance is charming in its restraint. This church reminds Light nothing of the gaudy images of worship he has seen in his architecture books in the chapters covering Christian architecture. A single officer hung back by the reception desk, scribbling away on a clipboard. He hardly lifted his head as L pulled the two of them further into the fold of the building. They pass through a hallway, similarly sparse, but for a few posters advertising a "Lunchtime organ concert" and a coat drive for the upcoming colder months.

"You know," Light starts as L continues to move them both forward, "you really had me worried… about why you wanted to take me away from the rest of the task force."

"Did you think I was going to take you to be executed? Or re-incarcerated, maybe?"

Light offers up only silence as an answer. It's as good as a "yes" in L's book.

"Rest assured, Light Yagami, I would not arrest you secretly."

Light sighs, glancing down, "Thanks, I think."

L shrugs before pushing open two large wooden doors into an expansive room. 

The sparse room sports white walls, honey-toned wood, and a single wooden cross hung above a low table cloaked in white lace. The only feature of the room that reminds Light of renaissance paintings is the single stained glass window. The prismatic glow, dampened by the darkening sky, still fills the room with blotches of colorful light, like a child's watercolor painting. It reminds Light of grade school art projects.

He only gets to admire this image for a moment before his focus is wholly stolen by a single ostentatious object in the room; A golden Reliquary gleaming in a pool of red light, proudly sitting on the altar table.

"Is it—" Light begins, following L towards the front of the room before a taught chain commands him to move.

"For Kira? Yes."

They approach the object, and Light cocks his head.

The thing is no bigger than a jewelry box and about ten times more decadent. It shines, its curved sides adorned with what appear to be real diamonds, rubies, emerald, and a few other stones Light can't put a name to.

Its two doors, swung open like inviting arms, are covered in intricate paintings of men and women behind bars dying. Details down to the tears streaming down their waxy faces, to the bloody froth gurgling forward from their throats, are depicted with careful brush strokes.

At the center of the miniature shrine stands a small, onyx, headless statue of a boy wearing a traditional Japanese school uniform. The words, "whoever strikes a man so that he dies shall be put to death," are carefully painted on the back panel, framing the statue of the boy.

"Well?" L tugs softly on the sleeve of Light's black jumper; the boy pulls his hand away.

"You dragged me out here for this?" Light says, still staring at the small yet ostentatious object that resulted in the most excruciating car ride of his life.

L lifts his cuffed hand to his lips in his customary way and simply watches Light, giving nothing away about his own mental processes.

"So this is a Kira shrine," Light says, leaning forward to get a closer look at the jeweled walls.

L nods slowly, "That is true, Light-Kun."

"What, so do you want me to denounce it?"

"That's a fine place to start."

Light rests a hand on his hip, causing the chain to give out a small chime. It echoes oddly in the large hall.

"I denounce Kira." Light says, starring L fully in the face, "he is abhorrent, and he is holding the world hostage, which makes him no greater than the very first criminal killed." Light waits for L to respond or give any side that his declaration has proven anything.

The detective gives a small smile, the edges of his lips quirking up awkwardly, "It's a treat to see Light-Kun so impassioned."

Light rolls his eyes at this, tugging them a few steps closer to the display, eager to get a better look at the bizarre, resplendent item.

"Has forensics-" Light begins. L nods before he can finish his question.

The detective reaches out to nudge one of the doors further open with a knuckle, "We took prints, I saw to it they were developed quickly. Whirl patterned, but we'll have to wait for ridge analysis for at least a day or two. Besides," here L sighs something similar to a sound of defeat, "we don't have a long list of suspects to compare the prints to. It's pointless to run the whole database for this, seeing as half of Japan are self-proclaimed Kira-worshipers."

L spent all but a moment mopping before he was grabbing at Light's arm.

"Hey! What are you— Use your words, Ryuzaki!"

L manages to wrestle one of Light's hands into his own. He holds him by the wrist, taking a golden sliver of a moment to enjoy the warmth of the boy's hand.

It quickly becomes evident to Light exactly what L means to do; check his prints with only the naked eye. Impressive, but then again, roughly 40% of the world's population shared that pattern.

"Your nails," L says, turning Light's hand over in his own. His touch is cool, soft, and calculated, much like his voice. If Light has no problem admitting his enjoyment of the man's voice… why not his touch as well? Still, Light tries not to look down at the site of their connection.

"What about them," Light doesn't risk looking away from L's face.

"You are wearing gloss—"

With that, Light yanks his hand back, "If you're going to be rude—"

"No need to be so defensive. It was merely an observation, Light-Kun," L attempts to smooth over Light's wounded ego with the affectionate term.

"You are not going to 'Light-Kun' you way out of this—"

"I'm not attempting to—"

"You are."

"I'm not."

Light crosses his arms once more, tucking his hand firmly against his chest, "It's stupid anyway; you know I didn't do this because I've been chained to you for the past month," Light says, trying not to let his bitterness seep through his tone. He's always had a talent for lying through his teeth.

"You might have arranged it before we even met..." L trails off, making a second attempt to grab at Light's hands. The boy twists away from him, backpedaling with his arms still safely tucked away.

"Your percentage will increase by another two percent if you don't let me—"

"Another two? Why'd you add the first two?"

"It wouldn't be very smart of me to share my methods with my suspect."

Light gives the man an odd look, letting his arms drop to his side. He refrains from protesting when L approaches and takes Light's hand in his own.

"I wasn't teasing." The detective mutters, turning Light's hand over to look at his fingertips.

"About the percentage?" Light snaps, fingers tensing.

L shakes his head, dark hair obscuring his eyes. L has his face hidden from view, the whole of his focus concentrated on Light's fingertips, "the nail polish."

"I told you, I don't want-"

"It's nice."

That quiets Light down, he feels something expanding in his chest and crawl its way up his neck, curling around his ears.

L looks up, shaking the errant strands out of his field of vision, "You don't need to be embarrassed." the detective remarks. 

"I'm not, Ryuzaki."

"You're blushing," L moves past him and towards the object of interest. He reaches forward and plucks the little statue from its golden confines.

It's an odd thing, clearly made to resemble a high school boy, clad in a loving crafted replica of the traditional jacket and slacks.

L plucks the little figurine from its place of honor and holds it up to the college freshman he has chained to his wrist.

"What were your uniforms like, Light-Kun?" the detective asks, dangling the statue just so between his long fingers that Light's head fills the empty space where the neck tapers off into smooth nothingness.

"You shouldn't be getting your fingerprints all over it. You're destroying evidence."

"You sound like your father."

Light scoffs, "I'm going to take that as a compliment; my father is a great man—"

L cuts him off. He's heard this speech before. Soichiro Yagami, father of all fathers, archetypical in his dedication and good-heartedness. 

"Your uniform. Did it look like this?"

Light crosses the small distance between them and swats at L's hand, eager to stop the questioning but unwilling to touch any part of this odd shrine, "what does it matter?"

"I'm just curious about my friend's high school experience. Is that a crime, Light-Kun?"

Light frowns, "Normally no. You know, I'd like to be open with you, Ryuzaki, but you twist everything I say. If I tell you my uniform did look like this one, then you'd take it as an admission of something,"

L perks up at the word admission, "So it did?"

Light brings a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, "No, no, it didn't, Ryuzaki. I was trying to make a point."

"Light-Kun should try to do that less often. He's not very good at it" L does an impression of his own pensive face, complete with a finger hooking over his bottom lip.

Light turns from him and crouches to look at the object of their travels more closely, "Now you're just being rude," Light mutters under his breath.

...

"I still don't see the purpose of bringing me here." Light speaks up after a while, "you don't need me to deduce anything. It's clear this is a shrine to Kira. It only makes use of information the public would know," Light looks over his shoulder, up at the detective, "you know Kira has a cult following--" the words die in this throat.

L watches him in silence for a moment; a chill runs up Light's spine; he hates it when L stares. It's nothing like the stares he is used to getting, and Light is very used to being stared at—strangers doing double-takes, classmates watching him rather than the teacher, any number of people pausing their busy lives to take a moment to appreciate Light. It was all very flattering and very impersonal. It reminded Light of the pleasantly glossed overlooks of museum-goers and mothers fawning over good children.

However, when L started, it didn't have that same hazy, abstract quality Light had come to expect from admirers. This is not to say he thought the look was malicious exactly... but it definitely wasn't impersonal, and it made Light want to duck away. If he couldn't see L watching him, he didn't have to expend any more time pondering the sweet uneasiness L's gaze inspired.

Light does his best to move on from the moment, hoping none of his thoughts spilled out into his expression in any way, "Right. Kira has worshipers. I don't think there's anything different about this show of devotion than the graffiti that's been popping up, except the price tag, maybe."

"To be honest," L starts, "I just wanted to see how you'd react. I didn't want to explain it before because I wanted to see your raw reaction. If you had too much time to prepare… well, that would ruin my experiment."

"Experiment?" Light questions, it comes out far more bitter than he would have liked it to, "I don't see the point in this, Ryuzaki." he adds with a small, cheery laugh, hoping to smooth over whatever animosity he might have incited. 

L doesn't react to Light's show of friendship. He simply pushes forward with his line of thinking, "Do you believe in God, Light-Kun?

"I don't see--"

"I know you understand what I'm asking. Yes or no."

Light bites his lip, looking up at the stained glass overhead. Even if Light himself wasn't religious, often things born of religious devotion stilled something in him. Light was fascinated by beauty and thoughts of eternity, though he would hardly call himself a Christian.

"I don't think so," Light concludes.

"I'll take that into consideration, thank you."

"What, does it increase my percentage?" Light questions as he stands up fully again, bushing his knees off for good measure.

The detective bows his head to bite at a nail, "Should it?" the words come out muffled.

"No, and take your hand out of your mouth. This is a church."

L's eyes Light up at that, "so you do carry some strong feelings about religion?"

"No— I… It's just common courtesy. Not that you'd know."

L does smile at this, his genuine, boyish grin "my experiment may prove fruitful, yet."

"What—"

And with that, L has hold of Light's wrist and pushes him up against the altar table, holding him in place with his hips.

"Hey! What are you—" Light chokes out. Taken by surprise and thrown off balance, there isn't much Light can do to retaliate besides leaning away, which, unfortunately, only gives L more leverage.

His back comes into contact with the white cloth of the table underneath him. The wood beneath is solid and smooth, the tablecloth slipping forward and bunching up around Light. He feels like something that's been laid out to consume. 

Light's mind floods with any number of objections and questions, all of them trying to force their way out at once, which results in nothing more than a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat. The sound echoes in the empty room, and Light shrinks away from the sound of his own voice.

L holds him there for a minute, just watching Light with that same intense stare that never fails to get a rise out of Light. 

"Why are you—" Light tries again. He wants to put a hand out and shove L back, but he isn't exactly sure he can trust himself to touch L and leave it at that. A quiet voice at the back of his mind warns against it, warns of just how tempting it would be to let that touch melt into something less angry.

Light turns his head to the side; it's the best he can do to escape L's relentless staring. A few errant strands of Light's hairbrush up against the Reliquary, the reason for their journey. 

"What are you thinking," L wonders aloud.

Light isn't exactly sure he knows how to answer that question. Too many things have fallen into place too quickly. Light just unseeingly stares, open-mouthed and flushed, at the golden shrine.

L lowers himself, maneuvering to fit himself comfortably between Light's legs, before dipping his head down to kiss Light's neck.

It's the warmth of it that really surprises him. It's a visceral reminder of L's humanity, one Light can't shrug off by looking away.

Light still can't bring himself to respond; it all feels unreal. 

L litters his neck with open-mouthed kisses, and Light can't stop himself from shivering each time L lifts his head to blow at the damp spot.

Light could just close his eyes, let L continue to memorize the curve of his neck and collarbones. He could empty his mind, lay back, and let L… he shies away from the thought. He could let this go and go until someone barges in on the two of them in this room.

This room, a chapel. This room, a chapel, defaced by a Kira worshiper. 

"Get off." Light says. The words are weak and lack any conviction, but L backs away from him to his surprise. Light misses the comfortable warmth and weight immediately. 

With his newfound freedom, Light stands, wiping furiously at the side of his neck L has lavished.

Light can't bring himself to look at the other man; he stares at his own shoes, willing his heart rate to return to normal. 

"Have I miscalculated? You aren't attracted to me?" L doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed, merely curious. It shouldn't bother Light, but it does. How unfair that he should be reduced to a blushing mess while L seems just as cool and collected as it did before he laid Light down over an altar.

What efforts Light has made to still his racing heart are utterly dashed, he opens his mouth to speak, but he is still too stunned to find words. Rather than respond to L, Light pulls the both of them towards the pews. L follows without fuss.

Light sits, still staring down at his feet, "what was that about?"

"I wanted to kiss you," L says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Light feels the heat returning to his face as he turns to pointedly look at L and is met with that same impassive face, "are you insane?"

A little grin flits across L's features, "it depends who you ask."

Light looks pointedly away from the detective, "that wasn't fair."

L perks up at this, peering over at Light, trying to get a better read on the seemingly miffed man beside him, "Fair?"

"You thought I— which I don't, but— you wanted to use that against me?" Light looks up from the floor but still refuses to look over at L, who now fiddles with his end of the chain. The rattling fills the room and resounds off the curved walls like organ music might have—an auditorium built to project sound, what a perfect place for L to force this conversation.

"You didn't answer my question from before."

Light sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, the glow from the window seeping past his closed lids, warming the cool darkness to a vibrant red, "I don't know."

"That's a first. Yagami Light does not know something."

"Can you stop being such an asshole about this for a second? Would it kill you to take something seriously?"

L pauses, the bell-like jangling of the chain fading into silent nothingness, "I am being serious."

Light does look at him then. The detective is cast in a ray of blue light, the window above being home to the sporadically placed navy blue pane. The color highlights the dark circles under his eyes, the cool tones of his skin. L watches him with lambent, moon-like eyes.

"That was cruel, L. If I did have… well, if I wanted to... if I was attracted to you, It'd be cruel to leverage it like that."

L only cocks his head, prompting Light to continue, "you did that to see if I'd… if I'd let you, in front of Kira, or maybe the Christian God."

"Maybe the urge to kiss you was just so overwhelming I chose to act on it here, despite the case." L offers. He knows Light will see right through it. It's a flimsy excuse. It's painfully clear what this is; L wants to see Light shocked, wants to see Light's facade crumble into a dusty nothingness.

Light scoffs, "nothing is ever 'despite the case' with you, Ryuzaki. You act like I don't know you."

"You might not," L muses aloud, his eyes flicking down to Light's lips. They shine inviting, thanks to Light's strict self-care regimen. L has seen the brand of chapstick Light uses before; the image-obsessed boy always kept a tube in his pocket. It was strawberry flavored, or so the product was advertised to be. L has yet to do his own investigation. 

It's too obvious a telegraph, and Light laughs something low and bitter, "come on, don't be so obvious."

"If we are going to talk about who is 'obvious' Light-Kun…"

Light cuts him off, "there is nothing to be obvious about."

"Is that the only reason why you stopped me?" L asks, leaning over until his shoulder brushes up against Light's. 

Light cuts a glance back at the detective, who is nearly leaning on him now, the pressure of a warm body is pleasant, but Light suspects it would be regardless of who was doing the leaning. Even Misa has gotten a rise out of him once or twice by virtue of being a human possessed of warm skin.

"Yes, Ryuzaki, it also has to do with the fact that we are in a church. It's disrespectful."

"To Kira?"

Light pulls away from the detective and suffers the loss of warmth silently, "No, God."

"You don't believe in God," L simply counters. It's a belief they share, one of the first commonalities they discovered over 2am cups of coffee at their HQ desk.

"I believe in manors."

"It's rude to deny me an answer. Did I ask too crudely? Would Light-Kun rather I ask his father first? Bring him flowers? Maybe a family diner and--"

"No. No. I don't want any of those things because I don't like you, Ryuzaki."

L can't help the small grin that sneaks onto his face at the word 'like.' A childish streak is also something he and Light share apparently, "you don't like me?" L draws out the would 'like,' Light makes it too easy sometimes.

L is pleased to see Light visibly flustered; it suits him. Dilated pupils and pink blush, juxtaposed with a petulant scowl; yes, this suits Light fine.

"I don't," Light shoots back, refusing to acknowledge his admittedly childish wording, "Look, if we just agree not to bring this up again, I think it would be for the best. Enough about me anyway. Can we please get back to the case?"

"This case is about you." L responds easily.

"Then how could you possibly expect me to think that wasn't a test back there?"

"Simple. Because I do want to kiss you. Despite or because of the case, I haven't yet figured—"

At this, Light drops all pretense of a composed exterior and whips around to face L, eyes blazing, cast red from the prismatic glow of the stained glass, "how could you possibly want to kiss me if you think I'm Kira? What's wrong with you?"

L merely shrugs, "Morbid fascination? Sinister aesthetics?"

Light parts his pretty lips to speak, once, twice, before resigning himself to silence.

"Light-Kun?" L prods at his shoulder with a single finger. No response follows. L grabs at the dark fabric of Light's sleeve and tugs a few times, "Light? Are you mad at me?"

Light gives a terse shake of his head. 

"You're embarrassed then."

"I'm not."

L smiles quietly to himself, so that's it.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be with a man," L tries, parroting words Watari had spoken when L was maybe around thirteen. Here, he left off the rest of that quote, "but love and attraction are blinding, the educated man avoids the sort of things that might dull his mind." L really didn't like the second half of that quote and has tried many a time to erase it from his mind.

Light sulks, more visibly than L assumes he wants to. L watches Light's eyes cut to the single wooden cross hung over the table L had had him pressed up against a few minutes ago, "I know there's nothing wrong with that. That's beside the point. I don't want to be with men."

"Don't lie to me; it's insulting," L says, still fiddling with the cuff of Light's sweater between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm not lying."

"I think Light lies so often, he has trouble distinguishing his own lies from the truth."

"That's not true." Light snaps, doing his best to keep his volume level.

"So you are sure you'd never like to become intimate with me?"

"Ryuzaki!" Light's voice jumps an octave, and his whole body tenses for a moment. 

"No need to be so shy, Light. But I'll take your word for it. If you're so sure, I'll be sure never to bother you with future offers. I promise. Light-Kun should know I take promises very seriously."

A little look of panic flights across Light's features at that, with the speed of a hummingbird's wings. It flutters into view and then is gone without a trace, but not so quickly that L doesn't catch sight of the thing; small, fragile, and a rare sight.

"That's not fair," Light mutters the refrain. Nothing is ever felt fair when it comes to L's dealings with him.

"Why not? You don't like me. You should find it a relief to not have to worry that I'll proposition you again."

"Can we not do this here," Light tries again, pulling his arm away from the detective and placing it delicately on his own lap.

"Would you rather in the car with Watari or back at headquarters with your father? If you are just going to reject me, Light-Kun, it shouldn't matter where you do it."

Crossing his arms and ankles, Light stares straight ahead. L almost wants to laugh at the pose; Light is the picture book definition of 'closed off.' Quite literally, Light's pose reminds L of the very first picture books he and the other children at Wammy's had begun to learn basic human body language from. He can conjure up the drawing perfectly in his mind's eyes.

Light is biting the inside of his cheek; L can see it clearly from the little divot it makes in his skin. He knows all he needs to do now is wait. Light will work this out for himself, and while he does, L has all the time in the world to watch the pouting man beside him and whittle away at his percentages.

"You want me then?" Light questions, eyes locked on the cross before them, before they flickered down to the Kira shrine that had been the reason for their visit, "Even though you still think I'm him?"

L nods before remembering that Light isn't looking at him, "Yes."

Light's heart stutters at that. Everything about this horrifies him; Light has had little practice with attraction, crushes, or any of this romantic negotiating, at least not with anyone he's actually been interested in. At that moment, Light feels a pang of sympathy for some of the girls he'd turned down a bit harshly years ago.

'So this is what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone else's emotions,' Light thinks to himself. The feeling is awful. He wonders for a moment exactly why people spoke so highly of all this love nonsense, not that he loves L. 

Then L reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Light's ear, his finger twirling the strand as he does so, his nail grazing Light's ear, and he gets it. He understands.

"You better not be lying to me. This better not be a test, you conceited bastard," Light says, turning to face the man. 

Light grabs L by the front of his shirt and pulls the man to him roughly. He smells like sugar, to no one's surprise, but he also smells like their shared brand of coffee, shared body wash, and shared bed sheets.

Chests nearly pressed together, but for Light's fist, the detective smirks, "I was right, wasn't I—"

Light silences L by pressing their lips together. Despite being the one to initiate the kiss, Light is the one who gasps in surprise at the contact.

Light has always thought kissing to be a girly thing, given how much his various dates over the years had wanted to spend hours in his lap brushing their lips against his own. Light had never known exactly what he was meant to do or why people rhapsodized about the experience; it'd all been very mechanical and, honestly, boring. He'd have described the feeling as dry, chalky.

But this, with L, this felt like something, it felt like everything. 

Light presses L back against the armrest of the pew. Without leaving the man's lips, Light brings his knees up onto the bench and braces his arms beside L's shoulders so that he now hovers over the man, hips resting between his legs.

L loops an arm around Light's neck, pulling Light closer to him. Light's chapstick lives up to its name.

L combs a hand through Light's hair, appreciating the silky texture. He runs that same hand down Light's neck to cup his jaw. Light properly keens at the petting.

He pulls away eventually, his breath coming in short, choppy drags. Light looks down at L in amazement, that same shine in his eyes L has come to associate with Light solving a complicated puzzle. 

Still, with a look of amazement, Light leans back in to peck L on the lips as if testing a theory of his own. He pulls away again with that same expression, wide-eyed, eyebrows raised before he closes the gap between them again for a second. 

Light pecks him again once or twice, always coming away shocked at L's responsiveness, at the ease of the action, at the way the kiss makes his stomach lurch like the rides at space world had when he was a child. A wild grin to match colors his expression, "I didn't know."

"Know? Know what?" L echoes, licking his own lips and watching Light track the movement.

"That it was supposed to feel like this."

L fists his hand in the soft fabric of Light's V-neck and tugs him down again.

L takes Light's bottom lip between his own, and the feeling shocks Light enough that one of his arms gives out, and his shoulder crashes into L's own. Light picks himself back up quickly enough, "sorry," he says, and it sounds almost sheepish. 

"You've done worse," L teases the searing pain of Light's punch coming to mind. Bending forward to kiss Light's cheek to make sure he knows this isn't rejection, he gingerly pushes the boy back by the shoulders until they are both sitting again.

Resting his back more comfortably against the back of the old wooden pew, L pats his own lap, "come here."

Light follows without being asked a second time. 

A knee on either side of L's lap, Light settles down with a surprised gasp, L's erection is more apparent now, given the position change. 

"We… I can't. Not here anyway. And I've never..."

L just nods, combing his hand through the soft hair at the nape of Light's neck, before moving to brush Light's bangs away from his eyes, craning his neck to lay soft kisses to Light's jaw.

Light still holds himself a few centimeters off L's lap, unsure if settling down will lead to L stripping in the middle of a church. The man in question looks up at him with an amused little grin, "I won't bite unless Light-Kun likes that sort of thing."

L places a hand, feather-light, to Light's hip and encourages him to settle himself down.

"L, I said we can't here and—" L quiets him with a peck on the lips, which Light searches after as L pulls away.

"I can wait. Right now, I just want to kiss you, but only if Light-Kun would like me to."

Light looks at him now, trying to affect a look of cockiness or maybe just confidence, but the flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears down his neck gives him away. Still, Light leans forward, letting their bodies melt into one another. Chest to chest, Light can make out the even thuds of L's heart against his own, beating in rapid double time. Intimate counterpoint.

'Bastard,' Light thinks, 'calm and collected even now.'

L is grinning into the kiss, which, admittedly, makes it a little difficult for Light to press their lips together just right; teeth getting in the way. Light can't be bothered to care; he does his best to match what semblance of a rhythm they are building. The heat of the other man's skin reminds him of hearths and warm mugs and sun spilling over his skin in the summer.

Light never expected L's body to be so soft and warm. He'd been expecting something sickly and corpse-like. The realization that L has a pulse as real and strong as his own? It's a realization so flooring that Light has to catch his breath all over again.

He didn't think the man's skin could give from anything less violent than a firm blow from his fist. To Light's shock, he finds that actually, a single finger traced from the hollow of the neck down to the navel did just as much damage. Maybe Light shouldn't be so surprised. After all, L is as much a man as Light is. It should come as no shock then that L should be just as vulnerable to this sweet ache.

Light doesn't think much of his hips seeking out friction of their own accord against L's stomach. The detective does nothing to stop him; he seems quite pleased with this development. L merely wraps an arm around Light's waist, keeping him from roaming too far.

L breaks their kiss and moves to nip at Light's neck, "what… are you… thinking… about," he asks between bites. He treats each livid mark he makes with an open-mouthed kiss, leaving the skin damp and smelling faintly of sugar.

"You," Light groans out as L works hands under Light's shirt, bunching the fabric up around his waist. L rubs circles into Light's hips with his thumbs, enjoying the give of delicate skin juxtaposed with the firm jut of his hip bone beneath.

"Just me?" L asks, using his newfound grip on Light's hips to pace the boy's desperate movement against his clothed stomach. It's almost amusing; L isn't sure how aware Light is of his own actions.

Light shakes his head, L's work on his bangs a few moments ago is wholly thwarted, "I'm… I'm thinking about God."

"You don't believe in God, Light-Kun."

"I— I almost think I should," and here, a sound equal parts laughter and bliss-tinged whine spills out of him, "it's… this is." he trails off, his words disintegrating into shallow breath and throaty moans.

He's an angel, L finds himself musing as Light tosses back his head, lips parted, neck newly exposed. The angle of 'Spleen and Ideal' comes to mind immediately, but L decides he prefers this living image. He likes Light mortal.

L slides a hand further up Light's shirt to tease his nipples. L finds the skin already taught, and Light flinches at the gentle touch, the steady rhythm L has coaxed him to stutters for a moment.

"Ryuzaki, I can't."

"You can."

"I'll make noise."

L cocks his head, gazing up at Light through his lashes, "are Light's nipples especially sensitive?" Light flushes at this but makes no attempt to stop him.

Rather than wait for an answer to his question, L lets go of Light's hips and snakes both hands up the sides of his ribs, searching for the sight of Light's embarrassment. There's no mistaking once he's found it, Light makes sure of that.

Light slaps a hand over his mouth, the echo of his moan still reverberating in the white-walled room. His voice carries like the voice of choir singers, "I told you--" he sputters from behind his palm, the words come out muffled. 

For all of Light's protests, he makes no effort to lean away from L's touch. The boy stays firmly rooted to L's lap, not that L has any complaints.

L pulls Light's hand away from his lips and takes his sweet time licking into Light's mouth. He takes the boy's bottom lip between his teeth and bites, and Light shudders into nothing, shattered into mere fragments of a thing that wants L.

Wants him blindly and without reason. Wants him even here, despite the risk. Wants him. Light wants him; it's as simple as that. Light wants him; it's as incomprehensible as that.

Light paws somewhat aimlessly at L, gripping his shoulders, then his neck, then pulling at his hair. Light must have done something right as L, who has been so quiet all this time, rasps out a faint "Light." against the soft flesh of his kiss-bruised lips. The vibrato vibrates down to his bones.

Light gasps into their kiss and stills. 

The pliancy of his body vanishes. The delicate, rhythmic movement of his hips stutters to a halt. Light's mouth slackens against L's own.

The languid, sultry mist clinging to his limbs evaporates immediately, leaving his skin cold and clammy with sweat. Pushing L away in his haste to get off the other man's lap, Light nearly trips himself over the loop of chain pooled on the floor beside them.

Light turns, tugging down the hem of his sweater, looking pointedly at anything in the room but L.' Back to square one, it seems,' L muses, as he pulls his knees up to his chest once more, lap now free of Light.

"Light-Kun? Did you just—"

"Shut up."

L unfurls gradually so as not to spook Light. The boy stands ridged a little less than 6 feet away; L has a suspicion that Light would have been halfway out the building by now if not for the chain.

"Light—"

"I said shut up."

Light refuses to turn back to look at the detective, but the tips of his ears provide more than enough information.

"It's pretty normal to—"

"Shut up."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to someone who just made you—"

"Will you please be quiet!"

Light pinches the bridge of his nose, his shoulders curling in on themselves, "We shouldn't have."

"You said—"

"I know what I said, Ryuzaki." Light's voice is cold and so far removed from the pliant thing L had held in his lap.

"That was stupid of me. I shouldn't have gotten carried away like that."

"You're just saying because you're embarrassed," L says with little inflection. It's a fact.

"That's the point, Ryuzaki. I'm embarrassed because I made a mistake." With a sigh, Light cools whatever resentment has bubbled up in him; takes a pitcher of ice water to the flame of irritation steadily growing in him, "do you have something I can wear?" Light makes a valiant effort to keep his voice level and his tone even. He almost succeeds. 

"No." L responds simply, eyes still trained on Light's nearly convincing facsimile of calm; the detective identifies a crack.

"Is this part of your test?" 

"Yes. I deliberately brought you out here with the purpose of observing you after you'd come in your pant—"

Light whips around to face him, face twisted up into something akin to the wild fury of an injured carnivore, "you—"

"I was joking."

Light crosses his arms, "that's in poor taste, even for you," he looks up at the ceiling as if he might just start praying, "is there at least a bathroom."

...

The drive back to headquarters is dead silent. L does not make a point of teasing Light, and Light pointedly stares out the window, seeing nothing. At one point, Watari turns on the radio, and Light wonders with a flash of horror like lightning if Watari knows.

When the car rolls up to their workplace, Watari silently opens the door for the two of them as he usually does, only this time, he has a long coat hung over his arm like a serving towel. He offers it silently to Light as he closes the door.

Light wishes for the third time he had some higher power to thank. By what miracle did the old man always manage the most useful items on hand?

Light wants to both thank him and apologize profusely, head bowed, but Watari stops him with an out-thrust arm.

"I thought you might be needing this."

Light wants to see a fond father's humored expression or even one of familial discomfort, but all he catches is a cool distaste.

Light looks to L, who does now toss him something akin to an apologetic look, "I'll… say we have some files to move to our room," L offers.

It's as close as they come to discussing what has just transpired.

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie, you made it to the end of this? Thank you! It's overlong for a story that was essentially written as a vehicle for that one moment of Light standing around awkwardly, tugging down his sweater to cover up... er that. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, leave a comment! It really means the world to me as a writer to know what people like (Or Dislike!!!) about my work.


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